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A Long Winter Ride
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Booshway
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Hiya Pilgrim!

Nope! You read it right. Caliber was used for rifles before decimal measure of the bore became standard, and gauge was used for smoothbores. The bore diameter determined the number of balls per pound and vise-versa. In a rifle, 24 caliber was 24 balls to the pound or about .578 bore size. In a 11 gauge smoothbore(.750), like the escopeta, the number of balls per pound were eleven.

And it was common to use smaller caliber balls in rifles by just using a thicker patch whether the patch be greased leather or cloth. When you lost your ball mold and cherry, you would have to check among the other trappers for a ball that came close to fitting the bore of your rifle. Having a large bore rifle was an advantage.

Regards, xfox

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Crossfox,


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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'Schticks,
WHO, ¿ME?
I just want to find out if the ball found the injun dude's chest.
Ole Cruz de Zorro is just teasing us here.
¡Adelante! Zorro
León


pistuo deo lalo
 
Posts: 3714 | Location: Acatlan de Juarez, Jalisco, Mexico | Registered: 22 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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If he aims to baganoggin I'd expect him to hit him on the head . . .

Watchin'andwaitin'sticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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'Schticks,
Maybe the injuns got ole crucero de Zorro before he got a chance to finish the story?
León


pistuo deo lalo
 
Posts: 3714 | Location: Acatlan de Juarez, Jalisco, Mexico | Registered: 22 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Nah, he talked to Miz Sticks today and he seems to be building up some tall tale pressure. Methinks it'll be a winter-long event. We'd better filch Birdman's bear blanket and ease up to the fire a little closer . . .

Fiddlesticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Uh, yeah, well, I only have a grey wool blanket from the Italian Army with yellow fringes on it. I mail ordered it from Ray's Beaver Bag in Nevada many years ago. It is pretty warm. It is keeping me warm two nights a week without Ms. Audrey when I stay at our new house. I leave the door and windows open in the bedroom and it gets down to 48 at night. So if I get real close to the fire...
León


pistuo deo lalo
 
Posts: 3714 | Location: Acatlan de Juarez, Jalisco, Mexico | Registered: 22 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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Hiya fellas!

Wolfwoman has been under the weather this past week and I have been tending to her needs, so, little time has been devoted to the story.

Will play catch-up this weekend and get more of the story posted.

Regards, xfox


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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With a shove into Josiah’s shoulder, Fetchumunder roared, belched a large volume of white smoke and sent its deadly 286 grain roundball toward its intended target. Just as Josiah tricked the trigger, he shifted the rifle sights up slightly and to his left. The roundball collided with Winded Bull’s right shoulder, breaking it and causing his hand to lose grip of the war club. It went spinning and tumbling to the ground followed by Winded Bull, who hit the ground hard. His horse darted to its left just missing Josiah.

Quickly, Josiah reloaded Fetchumunder and got behind the log barrier as two arrows thudded into the logs near where he had stood. Stitch made a snap shot at a warrior aiming a fusil in his general direction, with both firing at the same time. The Snake Indian fell back dead, as his shot missed Stitch by inches. Several more booming shots sounded from the far side of the creek, with no affect.

Two Scars had seen Winded Bull fire his fusil and toss it aside; he then ran out grabbed the gun and ducked under cover. Getting powder and ball from one of the Shoshoni warriors, Two Scars loaded the fusil and, in turn, fired at the mountainmen. Another had retrieved the fusil of the now dead Shoshoni warrior, Sees Far. Occasional shots rocketed from each side. Fusil balls buzzed overhead, crashed into trees, snapped off twigs, and kicked up dirt near Josiah and Stitch. Arrows proved to more of a nuisance, rather than a danger.

Black Feather and White Hawke rushed the redoubt loosing numerous arrows as they approached. One arrow hit Stitch in his right side just below his ribcage without passing through. He aimed deliberately, sending a galena ball through White Hawkes’ chest, dropping him in his tracks. Ignoring the burning hurt from the arrow Stitch reloaded and sought out another target. The mule jumped as an arrow penetrated its left ham, causing it to haw loudly and kick viciously.


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Keep it coming. Hope Wolf Woman is better!

Fiddlesticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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¡Oh, el esperando, el esperando! puff, puff.
León Hombre del Bosque


pistuo deo lalo
 
Posts: 3714 | Location: Acatlan de Juarez, Jalisco, Mexico | Registered: 22 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Sniff . . . poor ol' Volie, he's plumb outa breath. El Esperando must be the name of the donkey he's pushin'. But what's that got to do with the gun battle 'Fox is dodgin' bullets in the midst of?

If it'uz a horse or a mule I could help you, Volie, but I don't know much about them leetle donkeys.

Kindhearted'sticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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psst...'Schticks, it means: the waiting oh the waiting.
León


pistuo deo lalo
 
Posts: 3714 | Location: Acatlan de Juarez, Jalisco, Mexico | Registered: 22 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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Hola, Volie!

La historia continúa con el tiempo y la circunstancia permite. Después de todo, es un paseo largo invierno.

Respecto, Zorro de la Cruz


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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I got that part about the story continues as circumstances permit. But you better hurry because ol' Volie is bad to push donkeys while he's waiting--and he ain't a young fry no more . . .

Solemn'sticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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'Sticks,

When I first read Volies' post I thought he had jumped into the corral and was achasin' that wounded mule around hollerin' "Wait! Wait!", 'n' trying to catch 'n' calm it down.

I was a bit nervous about it fer a spell as I pondered how to get Volie outer there without him gittin' kilt.

It was only later that I realized he was exclaimin' "OH! The Wait! The Wait!" 'n' hyperventilatin'.

The second part my post translates "After all, it is a long winter ride."

Regards, Zo...unh...xfox


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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Winded Bull moved his legs as he regained conscious from hitting the ground so hard. He grunted in pain when he tried to roll onto his right side. With his left hand he examined his shoulder wound, knowing it was going to be limited in use for long time, if he survived.

Running Weasel saw the movement and quickly moved close enough to Winded Bull’s position to see the fight was out of him. Their quick conversation convinced Running Weasel that the remaining Shoshoni should not press the fight any farther. After all, they had been friendly with the trappers for a long time before this small group of Arikara had arrive in camp and tried turning them against all white men. Running Weasel called to the other two Snake warriors to cease firing and to come to where he was.

“Wakinu! Wakinu!” Winded Bull called to Josiah.

Josiah cautiously approached Winded Bull and signed, “Why do you call Gray Bear? Does your anger still run deep?”

“The anger that was in me has been released by this wound, Winded Bull no longer wishes to kill Gray Bear.”

“That is good. What of your warriors?”

“They no longer have heart for the fight. Winded Bull cannot answer for the Arikara,” Winded Bull signed.

Seeing that the Shoshoni had quit the fight with the trappers, Two Scars signaled for the two remaining Arikara to join him back at the horses. He was now angry at the Shoshoni, that his friend White Hawk had been killed, plus they had no white-eye scalps to show for all the effort. Two Scars wanted the Bostonmen dead.

Josiah signed for Running Weasel to leave his weapons and come to Winded Bulls’ aid. Having lived with the Shoshoni, Josiah knew of their honor and did not feel threatened by Running Weasel.

Stitch grunted in pain as he tried to remove the arrow from his right side, “Quit tis arrer outta me, Josiah. It’s ah mite ticklish ‘n’ I doan want ta laugh.”

“Hit doan look to bad from hyar, ol’coon. Be with ya directly,” replied Josiah.

Josiah inspected Stitch’s arrow wound, tried to ease it out with no luck.

“Gonna hafta cut some ta git tha’ point outer ya. Hyar, chomp down on this hyar green stick’n’ I’ll git ‘er out.” Josiah gently pushed the arrow a little deeper and thin twisted it slowly each direction to try to release flesh from the notched points. Then he slipped his knife blade down along the shaft, over the point bindings, felt the metal grate along the chert point. He then sprung the point into the knife blade as he lifted both out at the same time. It took two tries before the point was cleared of the wound. Stitch let out a great rush of breath and eyed the bloody point with a grimace.

“Walna, ol’coon, good thang tis hyar tis a huntin’ arrer ‘n’ not ah war arrer thet had been prodded inta dung,” Josiah said seriously, “Ya aint pizzened, howsomever, we better flash thet wound.”


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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“Git’er done, Buck, afor ah change my mind.”

Josiah cleansed the wound with a small amount of mountain whiskey that Stitch had provided. The strong alcohol content stung and caused Stitch to suck air deeply. After drying the wound as best he could, Josiah sprinkled a thin layer of black powder in the wound. Then firing a long, small dry tree limb in what was left of the campfire, he looked at Stitch, who grunted that he was ready, and Josiah touched the flaming stick to the powder.

The powder whooshed as it fired sending a small rolling cloud of acrid smoke upward. Stitch jerked strongly and let out a resounding yell, then huffed mightily while waiting for the burning sensation to subside.

“Ahhhhh! Thet’s dang nyar more hurtin’ than gittin’ thet arrer stuck inter me,” sputtered Stitch as he wiped tears from his cheeks.

Josiah grunted acknowledgement and proceeded to smear some honey over the flashed wound.

“It’ll weep fer a spell, then draw. Need ta keep it covered ‘n’ dry. Hyar, chaw on this ‘ere willow bark, it’ll help with tha ache some.”

All the while Josiah tended to Stitch, Running Weasel had been tending to Winded Bull’s wound, cleaning and binding it. He wasn’t going to be able to ride a horse, so, his companions had been constructing a travois so that Winded Bull could be taken back to their village.

By the time Josiah had finished with Stitch, the travois had been hitched, Winded Bull had been placed on the blankets and buffalo robes, and the Shoshoni were ready to leave. Spotted Horse had brought up their horses and informed Running Weasel that the Arikara had tried to take all of the horses. And that it was only because Spotted Horse was already mounted and had separated out the Shoshoni horses that they had taken only their horses.

Josiah stood by the travois looking down at Winded Bull, he signed, “I have no bad medicine for the Shoshoni. I had hoped to find a wife with your people, now I leave this country so that your honor will be strong. Heal quickly and be strong.”

Winded Bull looked into Josiah’s eyes and said, “We were once good friends, I will remember our youth. Go in peace, Wakinu.”

Running Weasel motioned for them to move out with the travois and the body of the Shoshoni warrior that had been killed. There would be mourning in the village for this man, but not in his lodge as this man’s family had died of fever last fall.

Josiah watched them leave, then turning to Stitch asked, “Ya able ta ride, ol’coon?”


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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“Best we see ta thet ornery mule furstus, I shor know how it feels with ah arrer stuck in it’s hide,” Stitch replied.

The mule was not happy, its ears were pinned, nose down and pawing the ground; Josiah approach the mule slowly with a lead rope, talking to it in a gentle, low voice. Finally, the ears came upright and the mule let Josiah slip the rope about its neck, and then take a turn with the rope around its nose. He led the mule over to where Stitch was waiting. As Josiah held the mule, Stitch examined the arrow.

“Hit aint in deep. Keep ah good holt ov ‘em whilst ah pull’er out.”

With a quick twist and jerk the arrow came out of the mule, which jumped and jerked forward while braying loudly. Josiah stroked its neck gently to calm it as Stitch smeared some tacky grease and bees wax mix into the wound to seal it and keep the flies from blowing the wound.

“Thar, thet otter do’er fer now,” Stitch said.

“We best be movin’on, iffen yer up to’er. Ah doan like tha way them ‘Rees left, they could still fetch us ah heap ov trouble.”

“Ah aint goin’ ta be much help in liftin’, howsomever, ah kin fork a cayuse. Let’s git ta packin’.”

“We’ll head fer the Clarks Fork ‘n’ find a crossin’. Ah’d feel right pert iffen we can put tha river twix us ‘n’ them ‘Rees,” Josiah commented.

Not long after the mountain men broke camp, Two Scars, Thorn In His Foot, Runs With Horses and Black Feather move into the campsite to retrieve the body of White Hawk. They built a platform and placed White Hawk on it, singing praises of their dead friend.

Two Scars persuaded his companions that it was in their best interest to follow the Bostonmen and kill them. Thorn In His Foot felt that they were making a big mistake to try again to take on these two experienced and harden mountain men. He kept this opinion to himself.


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Them boys are up a stump. It were good t'git the arrer out o' th' mule, tho'.

Fiddlesticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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Stitch and Josiah found a shallow stretch in the river and were preparing to cross when looking on their back trail, they spotted the ‘Rees. Two Scars bade the others to stay where they were as he rode closer to the mountain men. From a distance he ranted at the mountain men, slinging slurs and derogatory epithets at them. After awhile, Josiah tired of the verbal harassment, fired his rifle in Two Scars’ direction to empty the light load.

“He’s outer range, Josiah!”

“Not fer long, he aint!” Josiah exclaims, as he reloaded with a double charge of 200 grains of powder and a selected greased leather patched roundball. He then takes his time waiting for Two Scars to make a mistake and expose himself further to Fetchumunders’ sights.

Two Scars urges his horse higher up the slight slope above the river so that he can see the mountain men better. This is what Josiah has been waiting for as he steadies the rifle braced against the wiping stick, sets the trigger and then slowly letting his breath out, tricks the trigger between heartbeats.

Fetchumunder roaring like a cannon pushes hard against Josiah’s shoulder, and bellowing a great cloud of smoke and noise, sent its deadly roundball toward Two Scars.

Stitch had estimated the distance at 200yards, well out of normal range; it is closer to 300 yards and knowing his rifle, Josiah feels confident in the shot.

“Yor shor a keener!” Stitch exclaims “Thet ‘Rees one gone beaver!” as Two Scars pitches off of his horse, a gaping hole in his chest and back bleeding profusely. He is dead before he hits the ground.

Josiah reloads heavy again and watches silently for a short time, not seeing any movement from Two Scars; he mounts Molly and urges her into the crossing’s water, motioning for Stitch to follow

Thorn In His Foot is shocked to see Two Scars shot from his horse. The other two ‘Rees start to rush forward; Thorn In His Foot shouts them to a halt. They stand their horses, watching as the mountain men cross the Clark’s Fork of the Yallerstone.

Later they retrieve Two Scars, and like White Hawk, lay his body to rest on a platform along the river. Then silently they turned north to head for the Missouri River country.


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
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